


Burning Down the House

by goretier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goretier/pseuds/goretier
Summary: Anakin is assigned bodyguard duty for one Senator Kenobi, and perhaps gets more out of the deal than he bargained for.Or, a fic about Obi-Wan more or less causing Anakin to fall because he believes Anakin can handle no strings attached sex.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 68
Kudos: 277





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out, you might get what you're after  
> Cool babies, strange but not a stranger  
> I'm an ordinary guy  
> [Burning down the house](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgJ-hyzl6jg)

The cold and empty depths of space parted smoothly for the impersonal steel of the Venator-class Star Destroyer. It had been in hyperspace for about three hours, cutting across the stars like Naboo sailing ships over silky seas and just as quick and smooth.

The ship was almost silent, and its passengers all but dead to the galaxy with how deeply they slept. The long and hard siege of some nearly nameless planet in the Outer Rim had left the 501st battered, bloody, and raw – and would surely treat their replacement legion just as nicely. Many of the troopers tracked mud in through the main hangar and the cleaning droids were just about finished their work. The grime that stuck to their armor plates and the blood that leaked through their body gloves would take many hours to clean and repair – say nothing of their bodies and minds – but the familiar interior of a Republic starship was a hazy dreamscape of peace after several long weeks at war, and it lulled nearly all of them to sleep after the worst of their wounds were patched up.

They had about ninety hours of travel ahead of them before docking at Coruscant for leave, and, after that, an entire month to themselves. Untouched, unbothered, and almost alien in concept, but certainly well deserved.

Anakin Skywalker was somewhere just south of dreaming, picturing a night in his own bed and some time well spent in the Temple with Ahsoka, when his communicator buzzed against his arm and shook him out of his light slumber. He cleared his throat and pushed his hair back off his face and took his feet off the desk he had cozied up against during the journey though his bunk was only ever a short walk away.

“Anakin here.” He said, tossing the comm to the desk so he could sit back and begin rubbing the sleep from his eyes and straightening in his seat. The fuzzy image of Mace Windu cast the walls of his cabin in a pale blue light, and Anakin bit back a yawn and managed to pause his labored sigh just in time. Not a moment of peace, these days. Anakin had the sneaking suspicion that his vacation was about to be cancelled.

“Skywalker,” Windu greeted, standing with his back straight and his hands behind him in picture perfect parade rest, “Glad to see you made it out alive.”

“Master Windu, good to see you. The tin soldiers are no trouble these days, though if I saw another swamp planet again it would be too soon.” Anakin replied, settling back against his chair and fighting off the sleep that still threatened to close his eyes. Whatever Windu had to say to him better hurry up, he was fighting a losing battle.

“Well.” Windu said, watching Anakin settle back with a bit of a sigh escaping his form. “How does Stewjon sound?”

Anakin did nothing to hide his groan, and he reached up to pass his hand over his forehead before dropping forward to rest his arms on his thighs and sigh. Stewjon was far – Sith, the system was closer to the one they just left than their destination, though more proximate to the fringe of the Mid Rim than the blasted planet they’d only just left.

“What do I tell my men?” He sighed to himself, leaning back, casting his eyes to the door and his friends that lay somewhere beyond it. He was on his last leg here, and force knew they needed a break.

“This assignment is just for you, Anakin.” Windu said, releasing his formal posture to shrug a little apologetically. “The 501st still has their leave, but the Jedi are short on help these days. We’re spread thin; you know this. Every padawan is out in the field. The Council appreciates your work on Karjot, so think of this as a working vacation – you’re on bodyguard duty.”

“Who for?” Anakin asked, giving his bed a wave goodbye in his mind, but he was happy to know his men would still get their promised R&R.

“Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi. His actions in the Senate have made him a target as of late for Separatist attention, but nothing too dangerous has come his way so far. We’re sending you along until his next reappearance on Coruscant in two months in case anybody tries to drop him a visit.”

Anakin sighed and rubbed his eyes. Ahsoka would have to wait, too, and wasn’t _that_ going to be fun to explain. “Why not send some clones?”

“This mission requires a bit of a personal touch. Stewjon is anti-clone, though I hear Senator Kenobi himself isn’t as prejudiced. Aside from your bodyguard duties, you will help train the local guard to prepare for potential Separatist interference – it’s an Outer Rim system, Anakin… You know how they are about security.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and decided to not remind Windu that he knew very well how security in the Outer Rim left much to be desired; he had the scars to prove it. “Alright. When do I leave?”

Windu shrugged and offered Anakin an apologetic smile. “Six hours after you land on Coruscant. The Senator journeys home tonight.”

Anakin sighed and nodded his head. Stars, it was almost better that he drop out of hyperspace and meet the Senator on his home planet rather than make the trip to and from the Outer Rim, but exhaustion tugged at his eyes and he could only accept his assignment. “I will do my best, Master. What will my men do when they’re off leave a whole month before the Senator no longer needs me?”

“Master Plo will take command and the 501st will link up with his battalion. He should be done his current engagement by that time. You’ve heard Ahsoka will be working closely with him on that?”

“She did tell me Master Plo was taking her out for some fun sometime soon last time we talked. Thank you, Master.” Anakin said, waving a lazy goodbye as Windu signed off.

Anakin sighed and dropped his head to the back of his chair but the lazy feeling that had lulled him to rest was gone. No point in trying to sleep again now. In a moment, he stood up and snapped his comm back to his wrist before stepping off to make his way to the bridge. The walls and floor of the destroyer, probably more familiar to him than the simple carpeting of his rooms in the Temple by this point in time, echoed quietly as he walked.

Rex was at the bridge talking quietly with the trooper at the helm. Anakin waved off his snappy salute and settled next to him with a wan smile, which his friend returned.

“News came through a moment ago. Tough break about that, Sir.”

“Thanks, Rex.” Anakin said with a shrug. “It won’t be so bad. I seem to remember Stewjon being a grassland planet with some beaches, and maybe I’ll catch some sun.”

“Easy mission then, Sir?” Rex asked, the concern on his face lightening some.

“Yeah, just babysitting duty. Some Senator from the Outer Rim needs a Jedi to tuck him in at night.”

Rex laughed, rested easily against the console behind him, and together they sighed as they looked at the stars that stretched and wrapped around them. Frustration was starting to build up in Anakin’s gut and he grasped for the Force to help ease the tension. Beside him, Rex tipped his head to meet his eyes.

“Do you think he’ll be pleasant, at least?”

Anakin shrugged and scratched at his hair. He had yet to stop in the fresher, though Rex was too polite to point that out. “I can never tell with the Senators. Padmé and the Chancellor are the only ones I’ve ever really liked.”

“Befriending the Chancellor was good luck I think.”

“Sure. He helps me out of jams every now and then, but I don’t think he can get me out of this one. The people of Stewjon are anti-clone.”

Rex nodded and fidgeted with his cap. He had changed out of his armor for the journey home. It had been ages since Anakin had seen him in anything other than his plastoid plates. “Guess it requires a personal touch?” He asked. Anakin did not miss the bite in his voice.

“I guess so.” He said, sighing and stretching his arms up over his head. It seemed unfair to him that a system could push the Jedi into an arrangement like this, when he could be useful elsewhere and their trust in clones could be bolstered. They must have put up quite the fight to get him. “Though I’d trade tea with a Senator for another siege assignment any day.”

Rex laughed, and Anakin smiled easily. They talked for a few moments longer before Anakin retired, still smiling and taking his leave with a clap on his friend’s shoulder and a promise to meet him again before the going got too rough, and Rex waved him off by swearing he’d not give Master Plo too much to worry about when they linked up with his forces, as only the 501st could.

Anakin returned to his room and thought very hard at collapsing onto the bed before the call of the fresher finally broke down his defenses, and he stripped slowly, feeling the stretch of his overworked muscles pull and the feeling of cool air on his skin. His hair was greasy, limp, and matted, and fresh bruises over his thighs and chest struck out against his pale skin, but the water was hot and Anakin forgot it all as he stood there and soaked away the siege and wondered absently what the Senator might look like.

Later, in his bed of fresh sheets, Anakin lay naked and tried to keep his eyes open as he read over the mission brief sent to him over his datapad. It was a losing battle.

_Stewjon Prime, principle planet of the five-planet Stewjon System, Galactic Coordinates (077, -0746, 006). Planet classification: small. No hospitable moons. Sister planets uninhabited. Star size and classification…_

_Stewjon Prime. Population, 3 billion, 98% human, 2% mixed species. Environment: 50% water, 30% grassland, 10% forest, 6% glaciers, 4% mixed biomes. Average temperature, 60 to 90 degrees standard. Recent wildlife surveys show large populations of domesticated cattle and feral equivalents…_

_Government description: hereditary monarchy. Current matriarch Queen Rai-Lot Antone, husband recently deceased. Primary heir: Tabi-Koh Antone. Capital city: Darrok…_

_Industry lags behind galactic standard goals for output. Stewjon produces droid parts, spacecraft exterior mounts, water purification tools, among others. Agricultural exports include wheat, produce, fish, among other notable examples…_

Anakin sighed, pushed his hair off his forehead, and tried to keep his eyes focused on his datapad. The seemingly endless scroll of information pounded into his forehead and he blinked slowly, and he appeared to just miss Stewjon’s primary imports with an accidental tap. No great loss.

He switched the datapad to voice-over mode and took his gaze out to the rest of the room, where the sound of the air, the hum of the machinery in the walls, the gentle press of hyperspace thrumming across his skin, in his teeth, and deep in his bones, all washed into his senses and pulled his eyes into increasingly long, lazy blinks. But really, so what if most of the information rolled in one ear and out the other. The important parts usually stuck in there somewhere. That part about Stewjon reaching 90 degrees certainly did.

“Recent notable events include re-election of Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi of Darrok. Male, age 32, unmarried. Natural son of Queen Rai-Lot Antone and King Shar-Wan Kenobi, abdicated title of Prince at age 20 to become a private citizen eligible for public office.”

Oh, well _that_ certainly stuck. Anakin whistled low into the empty little cabin and glanced down at his datapad at the headshot provided, and got his first look of his bed-wetting Senatorial charge. His bed-wetting _princely_ Senatorial charge, no less. As he stared into the image, at fuzzy picture of the Senator’s calm face and neat hair, the voice-over of his briefing continued to break the silence of hyperspace.

He was handsome. Anakin felt himself lingering over the fine features of his face as the briefing washed into the background of his attention.

“Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi, one previous term served. Current member of the Senate Intelligence Oversight Committee. Proposed thirty bills in his first term, passed nine. Currently serving month nine in his second term, proposed ten bills. Most recently, ‘Republic Security Act no.8711’ with particular interest to clone production and quality control.”

 _That would explain it_ , Anakin mused, still staring at the holo in his lap. He could hardly be counted on faking interest in politics on his better days, but the mention of clones and Senator Kenobi’s particular station as member of the Intelligence Oversight Committee did let some suspicions tickle across the back of his neck. Already Anakin was imagining Separatist interest singling out the Senator what with his Outer Rim insecurities and high-profile security clearance. It was a wonder they hadn’t been on him like flies with that passage of that bill – and it had only reached committee a month ago. Begrudgingly, Anakin admitted that it almost made sense to send him along as an escort. At least while on Coruscant he could have counted on the guards for help.

The datapad went on and informed Anakin that Senator Kenobi was visiting home for the first time in nearly a year for the benefit of his mother. As Anakin swiped through the schematics of the senatorial apartments and grounds, at the very outskirts of the city, he counted himself lucky that Padmé had such intimate ties with both the Senate and the Order, who were more than willing to send along help and trusted hands at the slightest sign of trouble. It must be lonely for the less-connected.

Anakin flicked his hand across the pad to settle back onto Kenobi’s face, and he cozied himself back into his bed, drifting off into easy sleep as the calm and soothing voice continued to describe the many achievements and accolades of Senator Kenobi onto increasingly deaf ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in where this is going, please direct your attention to [this thread](https://twitter.com/goretier/status/1299789398159101963?s=20) and [this thread](https://twitter.com/goretier/status/1299797983203069955?s=20) on twitter, which are more or less my road maps as I fumble through this fic.


	2. Chapter 2

The glittering buildings of Coruscant gleamed through the bridge’s windows and blinded the men aboard. Anakin lifted his gloved hand and blocked the worst of the glare from his sight and the officer of the watch announced a successful drop from hyperspace, and the whole starship felt buoyant as they dipped into the atmosphere for one weightless second before gravity began its work. He watched as the horizon was swallowed up by civilization and thought briefly about Stewjon’s capital city that only housed ten million souls.

Beneath the star destroyer, Coruscant’s military base was pumping hot with the machinery of war. Men and droids and speeders and ships wove together in a living tapestry of urgency and order, and the choreography of it was practiced and natural and, to Anakin, as familiar a sight as his own durasteel hand had become. He flexed it, hearing the familiar sound of the leather of his glove bend and squeeze, the heat of it against his side, the rasp of it against his tunic, and wondered if the Jedi would be free of this engagement in his lifetime.

He wondered if he would enjoy being a Jedi in times of peace. 

“Landing bay 237-B open,” the communications officer at his left sounded, hand to the receiver tight against his ear, “Ready for docking.”

Anakin could almost see the landing pad emptying out to make room for the destroyer in his mind’s eye, all those many meters under them masked from their sight by layers of metal and wires. He could picture the refueling cables lining up at their stations, all the diagnostic droids powering up and waiting for their assignments, the repair crew standing by, the offloading teams at the ready. The ship’s computer did most of the work, now, and the helmsman stood with his hands folded at his front as it descended in smooth silence. The excitement in the air was palpable.

And then, with a little lurch and a large groan, the destroyer touched down on the landing pad. A customary moment was allowed for the troopers and computers to acknowledge and confirm the success of their landing, until the helmsman announced a perfect docking and finally opened the hatches. Every man took in a breath then, as if the outside air could rip up the ramps and invade every cabin in an instant, and bring each man that sweet smell of a safe return home, and they all smiled, all at once, and Anakin heard the distinct sound of joy echoing through the corridors.

He clapped the officer of the watch on the shoulder and congratulated the captain, and Anakin was not at all surprised to hear that the majority of his men were already out in the halls and on their way out into the city. He smiled to himself as he walked off the bridge and thought ruefully about what kind of fun he would have had himself if given his month of freedom.

As Anakin paced down the corridors on his way to the exit, he thought instead of the briefing he had suffered through in the earlier stage of the journey to Coruscant. In the little space of his cabin, between his four blank walls atop his generic, standard-issue furnishings, he imagined the tiny blue-green planet as he might see it from his star destroyer. It turned on its little axis so that each day was twenty-five standard hours almost exactly. It had three moons, six large continents, and five dominating ocean basins that separated them. He knew Darrok was located on the northern hemisphere and on the coast of the largest continent and had balmy beaches circling its front and grassy fields to frame it from behind.

The thought of water and sand present together in great abundance was always antithetical in his mind, a holdover from his childhood and something he still could find himself staring at in awe if his travels took him to such a place. Stranger, still, that grass would grow so close to the coast where salt and sand would usually create scarcity. It must be wonderful there.

Anakin emerged from the destroyer just as he was mulling over his admittedly limited understanding of pedology when a familiar voice drew his attention quickly from just outside the shadow of the ship. He turned, already smiling, and ran to meet Ahsoka halfway as she jumped out of her speeder and skipped in his direction.

“Ahsoka, it’s good to see you.” Anakin said, holding that warm smile on his face and feeling good for it, taking in the fresh sight of her after nearly two months of holos and radio waves. She was either a fraction taller than he remembered or his eyes were playing tricks on him, but her montrals were thicker, longer, and something deep in his chest squeezed a little tight when he recognized that she had been growing up half a galaxy away.

“It’s always good to see me, Master.” She replied, and that spark of sass in her eyes was all Anakin needed to see to know nothing _too_ different had become of his Padawan. “Glad to see you showered before seeing me, this time.”

“It was one time, Snips, you do not have to keep bringing it up every time we meet like this.”

Ahsoka laughed and led the way back to the speeder, catching him up quickly on her recent work; field training for the younglings until now, when something more serious has taken her away. It was fortunate they had this time together as she would be departing to link up with Master Plo early next morning in his pursuit of a spice trail strong enough to knock out a herd of banthas.

“He suspects Hondo is in control of this particular shipment, and I’m inclined to agree. I couldn’t think of any other pirate that would name a ship the _Ohnaka Experience_.”

Anakin laughed as he climbed into the speeder by Ahsoka’s side, and together they set off for the Temple as they swapped stories from their latest exploits and adventures. Ahsoka learned much about Anakin’s feelings regarding swampland and rain.

The journey to the Temple was short as the Senate District butted up against the base by a generous margin, and he and Ahsoka knew all the shortcuts. The walls and wires of the Galactic City seemed unchanging and always in motion, constant yet fluid, and developing a working knowledge of the packed streets and skyways was something of a second nature to the pair, and many millions of others who had come to call this planet home.

“Master Windu couldn’t promise anything, but he did say I might find myself free close to the end of your time at Stewjon, and, if the seppies have your surrounded with your backs against the wall, I have permission to step in and save you.” She leaned in, conspiratorial, and lifted a hand to her cheek. “I even have a swimsuit picked out. Just in case I need to make an amphibious landing and get stuck on the beaches for a week.”

“Oh, perfect. I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” Anakin said, shaking his head and laughing with her. It was unlikely she would be free any earlier than that to join up with him on Stewjon, seeing as her impending engagement with Master Plo had a little more to it than pulling over the _Ohnaka Experience_ , but Anakin was encouraged by the thought. “It would be a rescue all the same. I’m not cut out for teatime.”

Ahsoka smiled, rolled her eyes. “You and I both know it isn’t that bad.”

Anakin shrugged and looked onward at the Temple rising out from the city, its spires and tall tower shooting up in the sky. He followed them down until they met the blunt cap of the building and the entrance he remembered marveling at when Master Jinn had taken him in all those many years ago. It seemed unchanging against the skyline, though so much in his life had.

“Well, that’s easy for you to say. I am not cut out for formality and fuss. Makes my head ache.”

“That’s because you grind your teeth the whole way through it.” Ahsoka said, shaking her head and letting him jump off the speeder first as the entered the temple grounds. “And, yes, everybody notices it. Stress is especially visible on a Jedi.”

Anakin gave a little half shrug and tried to keep the smile growing on his mouth from turning into a full grin. They chatted idly as they walked into the Temple, through the grand hallways and in the direction of their quarters. Even on a planet so large, so stuffed with people, the Temple remained calm and quiet and serene, doubly so with the dearth of Jedi to roam the halls and contribute the quiet sound of footsteps in the magnificent halls at the present time.

Anakin bid goodbye to Ahsoka at the door to his rooms and couldn’t restrain the fond tone from creeping into his voice, and Ahsoka promised she would remain safe and return to his side as soon as she was able. Anakin would have traded almost anything to take her place in Master Plo’s assignment but he could only grin ruefully at her as she swore she would finally take Hondo down and see that disgrace of a starship impounded.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Anakin called after her as she skipped away from him, and he could only laugh as she stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder as she disappeared from view.

Anakin sighed as he entered his quarters. He had several hours to himself now and plenty of time to pack droid parts to meddle with – what else could he be expected to spend his time on during such a useless mission – but his bed called to him and Anakin found himself shuffling to its side, feeling the weight of his last engagement bearing down on his bones, and he sunk down into the sheets fully clothed to just take the edge off before he needed to depart for Senator Kenobi’s ship.

The bland beige walls surrounding his room were the last thing Anakin took note of before he slipped away into sleep once more.

\--

The bright and bustling center of the Senatorial port was grating on Anakin’s eyes. He had awoken from his nap a little later than he had intended and with a headache to boot, and had not enjoyed the traffic on the way to the port. He stared up at the glinting hull of the starship commissioned for their journey – smaller than he would have liked, only room enough for a small crew of three droids, the Senator, and himself – and the thought of the hours of hyperspace travel stretching out ahead of them with only the Senator and his paperwork to accompany him was a daunting one, indeed.

Still, it was a fine ship. A sporting design, sleek, with state-of-the-art engines hiding beautifully under the wings, yet inconspicuous with its low profile and modest exterior fixtures and paint. It was outfitted with two guns mounted on the underside and Anakin was quite excited to sit behind its steering yoke and take her into the atmosphere. He thumbed a small scuff on the left wing and wondered if Senator Kenobi could fly it, or if he preferred to be ferried around.

Despite the briefing, Anakin could not quite come up with a clear picture of the Senator in his head. What kind of man would abdicate his royal title for the stress and strain of elected office? He was popular, sure, but lacked true resources and friends in the Senate to achieve whatever ambitions he was disguising, and yet he had landed on an intelligence committee that could easily put him on the Separatist’s radar. But no convoy? No additional escorting ships? And only Anakin to watch over him? Either the Senator could take care of himself or not, and Anakin could not quite make up his mind about it.

It was still ten minutes to Senator Kenobi’s scheduled arrival, so Anakin let himself aboard the ship and did a cursory glance over the droids. A piloting unit, a simple custodial droid, and a repair unit, each of which already stationed at their posts and running diagnostics on the ship for the final check. There were three main apartments aside from the cockpit and engine rooms – two small quarters, and a shared space with a lounge and kitchen. Anakin found mountains of paperwork already neatly filed into one of the chambers. He kicked his box of droid parts just over the threshold of the other with a scoff. At least he wasn’t the only one on a working vacation.

All that remained was to wait for the Senator to arrive. Anakin rubbed his forehead, and wondered if he would be the kind of man to stay in his space or spread all his datapads across every surface. Would Senator Kenobi take his meals with him? Could he even cook?

Anakin sat musing on one of the seats when footsteps sounded up the onboarding ramp and some stab of anxiety spiked in his chest – kark, was he early? – before he rolled his eyes at himself and paced to the door to finally meet his bedwetting Senatorial charge.

A woman greeted him at the top of the ramp carrying a box of goods for the kitchen. Anakin smiled at her and took the load off her hands before she could protest too much, and introduced himself.

“Pleased to meet you, General Skywalker. I’m Tal-Kif, Senator Kenobi’s top aide. I regret I cannot join you both for this journey but my duties will keep me another day here, and the Senator is eager to return home. Besides, this ship isn’t quite roomy enough.”

Anakin laughed, and walked with her deeper into the ship’s interior where he dropped the package and let the custodial droid manage its placement.

“Is the Senator with you?” Anakin said, looking back over their shoulders to the hallway leading to the ramp, unsurprised to see an empty corridor. “I believe we should be leaving soon.”

“Oh – yes. He’s right behind me.” She said, turning towards the Senator’s chosen room to look over his things. She counted the boxes by his bed soundlessly and her lips mouthed each number. Anakin watched with a little quirk on his mouth. “Kark. I’m missing one.”

“I’ll go back to the landing pad.” Anakin said, turning from the room to make his way back to the ramp, when suddenly a new figure appeared at the end of the hall.

Senator Kenobi stood facing the ramp, talking with another aide a few short steps below him. He was carrying a box easily under one arm and running his free hand through his hair. He wore a soft, off-white color outer cape, and his clothes were simple and fine. He was shorter than Anakin imagined, perhaps a few centimeters shorter than himself, and the thought jolted in his stomach for some reason. He took an aborted step in his direction, and watched, fascinated, as the Senator turned and met his eyes.

He was much more handsome in person. His hair, even under the artificial light of the ship, was a gentle golden brown, just slightly mussed from his recent fidgeting. His beard was full and dark, striking against his pale skin and blue eyes, and he had a lingering smile on his mouth that warmed them, with delicate, pretty crinkles at the corners.

“You must be General Skywalker.” He said, striding forward and offering a curt bow. Anakin mirrored him, and let his eyes travel from toe to crown as he straightened up. The air in the cabin felt much warmer with his presence. “I’m Senator Kenobi.”

“A pleasure.” Anakin heard himself say, feeling a little as though he was standing a shade outside his own body, looking in at himself, at how his palm was sweating, the hair on the back of his neck was rising, and his cheeks growing warm. The picture in the briefing had not done the Senator justice in the slightest – and he had thought him handsome even then.

“Here, Tal-Kif. Thank you.” Senator Kenobi said, passing his burden to his aide who slipped it straight into his cabin. Here the Senator passed his hand through his hair again before tugging at his beard, looking past Anakin to his room at the mountain awaiting his attention. Anakin felt his head turn as if to follow his gaze, but his eyes remained locked on the Senator’s fingers, at the pinch between his brows as he considered his deadlines.

Presently, his aide returned. She shuffled a datapad into his hands and they talked, or so Anakin imagined, as he finally broke his eyes off his charge and turned to the rest of the ship and felt his face finally flame. Force, the Council should have sent someone else for this job. Anyone else. Anakin was likely to stare at him the entire journey, and he breathed out slowly and tried to find some grounding before he turned back.

“Yes, thank you.” The Senator said, walking with his aide towards the ramp. She turned to him and bowed and Anakin did the same before trailing after their little group, feeling like some gravitational pull was taking him into the Senator’s orbit, before they finally parted, and he turned to Anakin with a sigh, looking a little harried, a little like he was ready to be home already. “The ramp, if you please, General Skywalker.”

“Hm? Oh, yes.” Anakin said, turning dumbly to his side and slapping at the panel. The ramp began its smooth retraction cycle into the ship, and, in a moment, she was airtight. Anakin could hear his heart in his ears. They stood there together, in the cramped corridor, and Anakin grasped for something to say. “Should I go take us up, then?”

“Yes, I should think so. Eighty hours is quite the stretch.” The Senator said, brushing past him easily, seemingly taking no note of Anakin’s demeanor. “Whenever you’re ready, General. Just give me a shout before you pick her up – I hate flying.”

 _Well_ , Anakin noted, as he walked to the cockpit in a daze, happy for the space and time to process _at least that’s one question answered_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay ! depression :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little update just for fun! love me some fucky Anakin. thank you all for your love and I hope everyone is staying safe c:

The door to the cockpit closed with a hushed whisper behind Anakin as he stepped into solitude and took a calming breath. He was already embarrassed at himself but decided to put it out of his mind and instead patted the navigation droid warmly on the noggin before taking the pilot’s seat. It was cushy, and warm from sitting in the Coruscant setting sun, and the port outside the window showed no sign of slowing down as the dusky hours of night approached.

He looked over the panel before him and thought about what unseen march of progress could have wiped over the galaxy to standardize spaceship technology to the degree that it had, that Anakin could palm the buttons before him and naturally understand which nexus was for engines, shields, navigation, and more, despite their uniform appearance and the attempts of the stylist to favor art over utility. Anakin checked the fuel levels, and looked over the last diagnostic report, and, just before he pressed the ignition sequence and took her up, he thumbed at the intercom and clipped a short sentence to his passenger.

“Lifting off, Senator.”

A beat, and then, a reply, as the light indicating the Senator’s quarters blinked at him in a muted shade of green, and Obi-Wan’s light voice betrayed only the slightest hint of his trepidation.

“Thank you, General. Easily, if you would.”

Anakin flexed his hand in the air and thought about how even through the static of the speaker the Senator’s voice remained musical and fine, but perhaps the ship had updated audio equipment. He glanced at the small screen above his left shoulder, now dark, where the security cameras would show a short cycle through the ship, and a second thought occurred to him.

He put it out of his mind.

Anakin jabbed out the ignition sequence in snappy order with his left hand on the yoke and was gratified to hear the engines breathe out in a smooth roar underneath them. The ship hardly stirred, and Anakin reached up and towards the ceiling and touched it and could feel only the smallest vibration tickle his fingertips with a soft hum.

The control tower babbled at him a whole manner of codes that his little droid partner settled with speed and the file of ships above his head broke for a moment, a little gap in the clouds, and Anakin looked on at the atmosphere beyond and slipped the ship up, into the sky, and into the seamless network of ships that crisscrossed and circled and crowded above. They had clearance to depart almost immediately, and Anakin wondered what it would be like to have to wait in some of the queue lines many other citizens of the galaxy did when their business took them to Coruscant.

Anakin banked gently and rolled them into the sky, appreciating the smooth speed of the ship as the atmosphere around and the gravity below fought to reclaim the ship and prevent their departure, but the twin engines pushed them loftier still until the blue of the sky melted away, and soon Anakin was left staring at billions of stars. So close to the planet Anakin could pick out shipping routes around them, weaving off in every direction as Coruscant fed into the wider galaxy, and it was quick work for the droid to pinpoint their specific route from the billions around them and align their ship. A few thousand feet to the side, Anakin watched a Star Destroyer point its nose into the inky unknown, and then it was gone in an instant. He wondered how Ahsoka was fairing.

The droid beeped to his side, drawing his attention back to himself and the little ship surrounding him, and his duty at hand. Anakin drew his eyes along their route and the countless stars and systems they would be bypassing on their way to Stewjon, wondered how many he’d yet to see. But Stewjon sounded pleasant, at least in the briefing. Perhaps he really would enjoy his time there. The Senator seemed friendly, at any rate.

By his elbow, the droid zipped out some scattered bleeps and Anakin nodded his head, looking ahead at their clear path before dropping his gaze to the controls and plugging in the proper commands. By force of habit, he took a short breath in just before the jump, but the ship only reared back a hair before it jetted smoothly into hyperspace and the stars before them began to stream by in great strokes of white and blue.

Anakin let out a low whistle. The droid to his side copied him, and Anakin patted his head again with a grin.

There was little left for him to do. Anakin fiddled with the controls and decided if he checked over their math one more time he would die of boredom or else send the ship into the nearest star in a fit of frustration. Really, any other Jedi would be better suited for such a job. With a final sigh he rose from the seat and passed out the door, instructing the droid to signal if any anomalies cropped up and wishing bitterly that something worth his while would.

Senator Kenobi was seated in the common space with a datapad on his knee and a cup of tea in his hand, his fine cloak swept to his side. He looked up when Anakin entered, a polished smile on his face, and Anakin was again disarmed by his easy charm.

“Beautiful bit of flying, General.” Kenobi said, inclining his head to his room where Anakin noted a window showed hyperspace bending around them. “I hardly noticed we had left.”

“Thank you, Senator.” Anakin said, hovering by the door and trying very hard to decide whether he should sit with him or not. When the Senator set his datapad on the seat by his thigh, he felt a little as though the decision had been made for him, and he sat on the opposite seat. “Flying is something that comes naturally to me, ever since I was a youngling – in fact, I was a podracer before I was recovered from Tatooine by my Master.”

The Senator’s winning smile warmed into something more personal and he leaned back in his seat before draping his other arm over the back of the couch. Seeing him slip effortlessly into an inviting, casual familiarity – Anakin suddenly knew why he was so successful in the Senate.

“Podracing – really? I thought humans were ill-suited for the sport, and you must have been terribly young.”

Anakin shrugged with a guilty glance and played a soft and foolish grin for the Senator’s benefit. “I suppose I had a bit of an advantage.”

Kenobi laughed, and the sparkle in his eyes did terrible things to poor Anakin’s stomach. And even now, one half a conversation together, Anakin knew the Senator was good – achingly good – at his job. The way he talked, the way he carried himself; the Senator had the kind of skills that made him perfect for the role. A deliberate action taken by the royal family to install one of their own on the Senate? His effortless charm would have the people eager to confirm his appointment. But then, his nickname – The Negotiator – was there some streak of ambition hidden behind those soft and calm eyes?

“So tell me, General Skywalker. What news from Karjot?”

They passed half an hour together in effortless conversation. Anakin relayed several stories from his latest siege and was met at every turn by Kenobi’s insightful questions and comments – either he had done his homework before their meeting, or the Senator truly did take his work seriously as part of the Intelligence Committee. 

“Ah, but I’m afraid things will not be so exciting here.” Kenobi said with a rueful smile, looking towards his room and the stacks of datapads waiting for his attention. “I’m afraid you’ll be itching to get back to the real work of the war come the end of your stay.”

There was something – bitter – about his tone, just under the surface and brushing up between the Senator’s words. Anakin puzzled over his slip in demeanor but Kenobi covered it by rising to his feet and walking behind him to the small kitchen, where he set about preparing more tea.

“Would you care for some, General?”

Anakin shook his head, turned in his seat to follow the Senator with his gaze. Thought about questioning him, but he opened his mouth and was surprised to hear himself say his own name, instead. Anakin took a beat before repeating his words.

“You can call me Anakin.”

The Senator turned around, his eyebrows lifting, but not without something soft and friendly to his gaze, as he let out a little breathless laugh. “Anakin, then?” And, oh, he had never heard his name in that accent before.

Kenobi regarded him with his blue eyes, one hand in his golden beard and under a secret smile. “You know, I’ve never befriended a Jedi before.”

Anakin stood and walked around the couch until he was standing in front of the Senator, and something hot thrilled down the back of his spine when he noticed their height difference. Kenobi seemed unperturbed as he looked him up and down, and Anakin met his gaze when it returned. He put his hand out, and tried to remember if befriending Padmé had felt anything at all like this. 

Kenobi stepped forward and took it, his grip firm yet light, and the leather of Anakin’s glove was the only sound between them for a breath until Kenobi spoke.

“Obi-Wan.”

Anakin nodded and dropped his hand, wishing for all the spice in the galaxy that he could have felt the heat of Obi-Wan’s palm through his dead durasteel fingers, but the Senator was closer now, just a step from his own chest, and he was looking up at him from under his long and light eyelashes with something interesting in his eyes and Anakin wondered just what it was about him that made him want to rip out the control panel of their ship and maroon them on some sandy moon.

Anakin settled for staring back. The air in the cabin was warm. Obi-Wan’s tea was getting cold.

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan offered, sliding his gaze away and then walking away himself, like some specter of mist and light that Anakin could feel but not touch, grab but never hold. He returned to his couch and picked up his datapad, and Anakin watched as he slipped back into his politician’s smile.

“I must finish this within the hour, but afterwards I’d quite like to hear the story about your arm, Anakin.” He said, as if tasting his name, and feeling it drip off his tongue and from between his teeth.

Anakin nodded, and retired to his room wondering why he could feel all ten of his fingers aching to squeeze something.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying to channel fuckboy/daddy/sex addict socialite energy for Obi-Wan here but hopefully I land it better next chapter.

The four walls of Anakin’s cabin were empty, and for perhaps the first time in his life he found himself thankful for a spot of monotony. The discomfort of the trip was already grinding at his nerves. Ahsoka would probably laugh her ass off if she saw him like this. Even here, with the door safely closed behind him and some space between the Senator and himself, Anakin could still feel his eyes on him. Perturbed, he sat on the bed with his back to the door, and set his mind on meditating.

Here, Anakin could catch his breath as he did in the cockpit. As he settled and opened his mind to the Force, however, he grew increasingly aware of every sigh, every shift against the couch, every tap of Obi-Wan’s long and delicate fingers in the room outside, almost as though his senses were magnified and honing in on his charge. The door was closed but Anakin could feel a strong heat behind it pressing into his room – sometimes warm and reassuring, but often restless, and tasting of salt. His skin felt tight. His cheeks felt hot.

The Force came to him easily, like it had been waiting for him. Like it wanted to roll around and play. Like it was curious and willing, and could fill the cabin with that same warm air until it leaked out the cracks in the walls and then swell up to size in the rest of the ship until he and Obi-Wan were coated in it, breathing it in with every gasp. It would feel hot on their skin, like the rolling heat behind the door. Condensation would form on the windows. Steam in the air. Like Obi-Wan’s tea. Sweet smelling. Sugary. Syrupy. Slick.

It would taste good, he was certain. Anakin’s distant thoughts caressed through his memory and he remembered the security camera in the cockpit. Practically unnecessary on a ship this size. Invasive, even. Obi-Wan’s cabin was the same size as his and their beds shared a wall. Anakin thought about that for a while. The Force helped put it out of his mind.

Behind him, the heat of the common area seeped into the cabin steadily and warmed the back of his neck to a sweat. Anakin heard the Senator sip his tea. Could feel him murmur out loud to himself. Could see him pull on his beard.

The whole ship seemed to float in time around him. Stewjon was far away – and Coruscant might as well be across the galaxy. He was alone on a personal spacecraft with only one man to pass the time with. He liked sweet things, and had salty skin. The windows were wet and his tongue was dry.

\--

In the common area, Obi-Wan stared sightlessly at his datapad and read again over the same sentence he had been trying to get past for the last ten minutes.

“Useless.” He sighed quietly, unaware that a few feet away Anakin mouthed the same word soundlessly in his trance. He hadn’t felt been this distracted in ages – perhaps his mother was right, and this break would do him some good. Still, the timing was inopportune, and the fanfare about his security was… less than ideal. Honestly, a _Jedi_ … Stewjon wasn’t some backwater planet without defense or capability. It was almost insulting.

Obi-Wan rose from his seat and took his cup to the kitchenette. The cabin felt hot and the air a little oppressive. The atmospheric controls indicated no sign of error, though, so Obi-Wan chalked it up to his drink as he passed his cup under some warm water to clean and set it aside for the moment. His legs felt restless and his skin felt tight, but man was never meant to spend several days buttoned up in a spaceship with nowhere to run, so he settled, agitated, back in his seat.

His thoughts fluttered about for only a moment before they found something to stick on and Obi-Wan looked at the empty seat across from him pensively. Anakin was not the first Jedi he had met but would be the first one he would know. The short bio he had been supplied with as part of his daily briefing had been interesting, but even the driest report on the dashing and capable General would read at least a little like an epic poem – and yet Anakin was not as he pictured him, neither in personality nor in looks. The holos he had seen were misleading. Gallant, and handsome, to be sure, but with a certain air of gravity that had eluded his photographers. Something perhaps a bit off in the air about him today, then – but, maybe, that was the hyperspace talking. Maybe he was still wired from his most recent assignment.

Obi-Wan licked at his teeth, feeling the sweetness of his tea still lingering on his tongue. He thought the Jedi to be a rather cheerless crowd, personally, but Anakin again struck him as something different. Perhaps if cheer wasn’t quite the correct word, Anakin certainly embodied emotions he was none too pressed to hide – here, Obi-Wan paused, and reflected on their parting words, the way that Anakin had looked at him as he took his hand, the way he flexed his fingers as he retreated into his room.

If he met every friend like that it was no wonder that certain rumors circulated about the General and that pretty senator from Naboo. He was handsome enough, certainly. And with a gaze like that, intense as that, anybody might well take him up on the offer. 

Color began to heat Obi-Wan’s cheeks, but he passed it off as another trick of the temperature and he waved his hand flippantly to his invisible audience as his thoughts shifted tracks. Jedi were not to have relations, or something to that nature. Though if one _were_ to have one, undoubtedly Anakin would be the first to try. He would certainly believe the man had tasted his share of kisses in his lifetime, if not more. It went with the war hero territory. Great men like that could not help but pass through a system sweetening snatches as he went along and, again, if any one of them were to try…

Obi-Wan caught himself again and stood up to fetch some water, thinking to himself that perhaps he should boot up the utility droid and have it see about the temperature controls aboard this infernal thing. But, as he stood there filling his glass, his vision grew soft at the edges as he thought about all the available Twi’lek and Togruta women someone as handsome as Anakin might have had, vows be damned, he was human after all, and for some reason could not quite forget the thought as he returned to his seat to pick up his datapad once more.

 _Maybe_ , he thought, rubbing his temple and trying to not picture Anakin with those dark and possessive eyes with a compliment of blush on his cheeks, _This vacation was not a good an idea_.

\--

Time passed irregularly for him, but at the end of an hour Anakin came to himself rather suddenly, feeling feverish. He unfolded his legs with some surprise and felt his head come down from the clouds slowly, like he was walking through layers of cloying and sticky gossamer, and he shook his head out with a sigh before he rose and tried to remember what he had meditated on that his jaw would ache like this. Strangely, he could only remember the taste of salt and sugar sticking thickly, fleetingly, to the flat of his tongue.

Outside the door, Anakin could hear the Senator sipping at his drink, and it gave him pause before he sighed and took himself to the ‘fresher, instead. Cold water might help his condition. He was stern with himself as he scoured his skin and scalp. He emerged fifteen minutes later a little more secure feeling, and when he was wrapped up in a fresh set of clothes and pulled his belt tight around him with a kind of finality he could not understand feeling so necessary, the whole trip so far felt like an incredibly embarrassing experience that he could not wait to put behind him.

Itching to get on top of it, Anakin let himself out into the common area determined to show the Senator he had a grasp on how to hold a conversation. The tension in his jaw was starting to ache, but no matter. Politics and tea. Child’s play.

“Ah, Anakin.” Obi-Wan greeted him, looking up from his work with a smile. The sound of his name in that gentle accent again – such a soft word from his mouth, how inviting – was something Anakin tried hard not to focus on. Schooling his expression, Anakin nodded as he returned the greeting.

“Obi-Wan. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Oh, no. I finished a moment ago.” Obi-Wan said, placing his datapad down on the coffee table before him. His inviting posture was alluring, and there was a heat on his skin just over the gentle cut of his cheekbones. Anakin tried not to stare as he walked around to face him better.

“It’s warm in here.” Anakin offered, trying to stick to the set of basic conversational pieces that even the most inept creature could not screw up. He was afraid for a second that his words would fall flat – keeping company with socialites was never his strong suit, Ahsoka would be sick with laughter – but Obi-Wan only grinned and turned his head towards the little team of droids stationed primly in their charging ports.

“I’ve just set our friend to the task and he finished his diagnoses only a moment ago. I’m afraid he came up short as to why I can’t quite get it to cool off in here – the damn thing is working perfectly, it seems.” He said, shaking the glass in his hand carefully as the ice clinked pleasantly inside. “Can I pour you a drink, General?”

Anakin sat, finally, and nodded his head. He watched Obi-Wan rise from his seat, and how despite the heat he kept his cloak about his shoulders. It did little to disguise his comparatively slight frame, or the way the Senator moved with grace through the cabin. Force, he was handsome.

Feeling the need to say something, Anakin turned in his seat to watch the Senator pour drinks for the two of them and cast his mind about for a topic.

“Taking a lot of work home with you, Senator?” He asked, eyeing the fine glasses Obi-Wan produced and the even lovelier looking bottle he procured from a cabinet. “Seems like a strange way to want to spend a break.”

“Ah, the work of a Senator never ends.” Obi-Wan said, his long-suffering tone pulling a smile from Anakin as he passed him his glass. “I’ll be lucky to have two hours to myself in all this time.”

“That can’t be true.” Anakin said, swirling his glass and looking into it curiously as the sweet smell bloomed from the cup and lighted upon the air. “Padmé has time to herself, and she’s been in politics for quite some time now.”

“Oh, you are close to her, then?” Obi-Wan asked, looking at him with a curious expression before inclining his glass in his direction in a simple toast. “To friendship, then.”

Anakin smiled as he raised his own in turn, and they took their first sips together meeting eyes overtop the rims of their glasses. The wine was mulled, and felt perfectly warm on his tongue, though the temperature of it in his hand gave him no indication that it should feel as such. He looked at it with surprise as he lowered his glass, licking his lips. 

“A gift from Senator Bail Organa,” Obi-Wan mentioned, considering his glass, “Alderaanian wine is in a class of its own.”

“I see you have your own friends, then.” Anakin observed, watching the way Obi-Wan’s throat moved as he took another sip.

“It’s impossible to do this kind of work alone. One must be popular, if in the eyes of the public only. Bail Organa is a wonderful friend, though, especially so in private. I should very much like to kick him off my committee soon.”

Anakin grinned, and settled more comfortably in his seat with his legs slightly spread. “Keeping your enemies closer, are we, Senator?”

Obi-Wan winked at him from across the coffee table, and Anakin decided he had never known anybody to have prettier eyes. “See, anybody with any wits can do this kind of work. You would do nicely if you put down your lightsaber and picked up a pen – war, indeed, is a merely a continuation of politics by other means… Speaking of, I do believe you owe me a story, dear General. It’s quite hard to forget about a handshake so unique as yours.”

\--

Sometime around the middle mark of Anakin’s retelling of his fateful duel with Count Dooku – embellished slightly, though why he could not say – Obi-Wan had refilled his glass by walking over to him, and seating himself on the couch beside him. In the closed walls of their little starship, with the hum of engines their only background noise and no other creatures around to hear them, Anakin was talking softly as Obi-Wan pulled at the fine leather ties holding his glove on.

“It was painful, but I hardly remember. The emotion of that day overshadows it, mostly.”

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan asked, not looking at him, offering Anakin freedom to take in his reddish cheeks above the immaculate cut of his beard. His durasteel hand twitched reflexively when Obi-Wan passed his fingers down his palm to begin to tug his glove off. Their glasses, now empty, sat peaceably next to one another on the table as they spoke, and the whole cabin might have been swirling around them for how hastily Anakin had taken his last glass in all his anxiety. “I thought emotions were forbidden to Jedi.”

Anakin huffed out a laugh, now looking at his hand as Obi-Wan did. He seldom took interest in it anymore as it was next to natural for him – just the shock of its chill in the morning was all that reminded him it was metal these days. That, and this newly discovered wistfulness that rose high in his throat when the Senator passed his delicate fingers over his thumb. Strange. “Well, they’re certainly discouraged, but they must be pretty lenient on that rule these days. I’d be expelled from the Order for sure if they ever decided to crack down on that part.”

“Hot blooded, are we?” Obi-Wan mused, as Anakin watched his eyes travel along his wiring, feeling for all the world that the Senator’s gaze was heating his blood himself.

“You could say that.”

Obi-Wan clicked his tongue in a mocking, stern fashion. Anakin felt his head begin to swim along with the room.

“Does your hand feel things?” Obi-Wan asked, looking up at him now, curling his index finger over his thumb.

“Not at all.” Anakin said, his throat dry.

“Your fingers are thick.” The Senator observed.

“Ah.” Anakin said. He seemed closer now. He could smell the mulled wine, sweet, syrupy, on his breath.

Obi-Wan let go of his hand then, and Anakin cast his gaze to the wall and pretended he did not see the way the Senator was now looking at his other hand, as if measuring the size of his fingers.

“Can you use it?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice sounding so close that Anakin’s hair began to stand up on the back of his neck, and gooseflesh began to spread down his sides. “For the Force, I mean?”

“Hmm? The Force?” Anakin said, grasping at their conversation with all his attention now as he tried to blink through the haze at the front of his skull. He lifted his hand and their glasses rose off the table together and began to circle in the air. “It doesn’t come from any specific part. Using gestures can help you focus your intent, that’s all really.”

Obi-Wan watched, fascinated, as Anakin lifted their glasses a little higher so they were almost bobbing in the air, buoyant on some unseen waves and twinkling with the last drops of their wine between them. They clinked softly together and their soft chimes were like gentle alarm bells pulling Anakin out of a dream.

He set them down on the table again, biting the inside of his cheek, and finally aware that he was hard. The feeling that he had slipped up, missed some opportunity, stuck sharp in his chest, and he looked at Obi-Wan to his side.

The Senator was staring at him openly, now pushed back to his own side of the couch with all his decorum and pomp and circumstance evaporated off his skin. He was flushed, his cape was missing, cast aside on the couch across the table and leaving him almost naked looking without it as he propped his chin in one hand as he balanced his elbow on the arm of the couch. He was facing him, with one foot flat on the floor, and the other up almost on the cushion with his legs open. Anakin, even by the grace of the Force, kept his eyes above his collarbones only with great effort.

“You aren’t with that Nabooian Senator, are you?” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin almost shivered as he shook his head, feeling the undercurrent of Obi-Wan’s words in the thick air around them.

“Of course not.” Obi-Wan said for him, and the confidence in his words and the way he let his hand fall from his chin, so inviting, almost daring him to come closer – Anakin swallowed. Let his eyes travel down just to his chest.

Obi-Wan sat silent for a moment, pursing his lips and tapping one finger in the air, before he straightened in his seat with a sly and knowing smile. To Anakin, it looked almost hungry, and he was certain he was projecting nothing short of starvation straight back at him but felt himself too powerless to stop.

“You know, I’ve heard it’s all really quite simple.” Obi-Wan said smoothly, standing up from the couch and taking the two steps needed to put him between Anakin’s knees. “Attachment is the only thing they really ‘crack down on,’ as you say.”

Anakin spread his knees apart and sunk his hands into the cushions hard, feeling the hot and syrupy taste of his meditation starting to lick up his skin as he finally allowed himself a glance at Obi-Wan’s hips. Stars. He found his tongue, and played along.

“Of course, Senator.” He said, swallowing thickly as Obi-Wan made his final move and knelt down on the sofa, straddling his thighs, with his soft white shirt and golden beard looking heavenly in the artificial light surrounding him.

“So…” Obi-Wan said, framing his head with his hands as Anakin bumped the back of his head against the sofa and looked up at him, at his wet mouth, and wondered if he might still taste his tea on his tongue. “It wouldn’t be a problem, then, for a first-class Jedi such as yourself, to keep to such a simple part of the code.”

Anakin shook his head, and could feel Obi-Wan’s satisfaction radiate down his skin just by looking at him, and when the Senator finally bent down to kiss him Anakin set his hands high on his thighs and to the juncture of hips, felt his every muscle tense in anticipation, and let the Senator press his tongue inside him.

––

If it was Anakin’s first kiss, Obi-Wan had no intention of holding his hand through it. Figuring anyone who could survive trench warfare might be a quick learner he licked into him, over his wet and slick tongue, to taste the back of his teeth and the way he exhaled while arching against him. He tasted sweet and syrupy, even through the wine, like his spit was intoxicating on his own and like he would easily drink anything he fed him, eager to please as he was. The way he gripped his hips hard at the top of his thighs and pulled him down against him felt natural, perfect, like he knew exactly how to move.

He kissed him hard with one hand in his hair, at the back of his neck, holding his head in place so he could bite at his lips and suck at his tongue. Anakin squirmed like a whore and rutted up against him, hard and fast, like he was begging to be broken, and Obi-Wan used his free hand to push back at his chest when he finally broke their kiss and leaned back in his lap. The dark look of desire in Anakin’s eyes matched beautifully with his wet lips, and Obi-Wan released his hair to wipe at his own mouth.

“Hmm…” He said, pressing his hand a little lower on Anakin’s chest, feeling his strength and the restraint he was showing as he squeezed his hips in favor of asking for another. “Better than Miss Amidala?”

Anakin’s gaze burned up at him silently, letting his unsaid words color the air, as Obi-Wan slipped off his lap, thrilling at the heat in his eyes and the way he tracked his movements like he was a moment away from snatching him back. In only a moment, though, it was gone again, and Anakin looked game enough as he collected their glasses and paced to the kitchenette to begin rinsing them off.

“You know all those rumors aren’t true.” Anakin said, turning back to him and mirroring their first parting as they both stood close together, almost further apart in height than what little room separated them across the floor. “Besides, the work of a Jedi never ends.” He echoed.

Obi-Wan brushed past him to the refrigerator and said something about starting dinner, conscious of Anakin’s heated eyes on his waist and considering how novel being a Jedi’s first would be, and how Anakin seemed only a touch away from taking him against the countertops.

Only a kiss, and seemingly whipped. Maybe Anakin was less Jedi and more man than he thought he was, not that it made much of a difference to Obi-Wan - he was certain he would measure out how much of each Anakin precisely was before they arrived at Stewjon.   
  
––

Two steps behind him, yet a galaxy away in his own little world, Anakin watched Obi-Wan set about dinner with something unfamiliar and dangerous blossoming unseen in the back of his mind, awakened as much by Obi-Wan’s kiss as his teasing and light words, and decidedly hungry for something more. 

When Obi-Wan turned to him to coerce him into assistance, it melted away with as much finality as his meditation had, and Anakin stepped up to his side with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: did this bitch quote Clausewitz at me?
> 
> Obi-Wan, foolishly: Forget it. You can handle no strings attached, right? 
> 
> Anakin: I will say anything to make you kiss me.
> 
> Obi-Wan’s bladder: Stop feeding him tea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick update before the New Year because I think Anakin was too horny to wait any longer.

Standing still between the four secure walls of his private bathroom, perhaps the one place aboard the starship that still held a slight chill in the air, Anakin gazed at himself in the mirror above the sink with pensive and solemn eyes. The mirror was wide enough to accommodate his shoulders, but stopped short just above the cut of his lower rib cage. Stretched across his chest was the mottled patchwork quilt of fading bruises and shining scars that characterized an active soldier's skin. In the chilled air Anakin touched a few of those scars, picking out among them damage from blaster fire and the ragged edges of skin burned away from the searing slices of lightsabers.

He had catalogued each of them as this strange and unnatural tapestry grew and altered the landscape of his skin. It was an important part of the process. Helped him keep his head clear and his purpose present — and the work of a Jedi never ends.

Anakin could measure his contribution to the Republic by counting the number of battle droids he decommissioned in a day, and the number of Sith Lords he could challenge. He could measure his debts by the number of blood transfusions and bacta patches required to keep his body functioning. It was a simple equation, and one that favored him and his talents, maintained by the steady state of war and the obligation and duty of the Jedi to the Republic — something Anakin could understand. Something he hadn't felt the need to question for perhaps more than a decade — he had never known life as a Jedi in times of peace, but now that question was rising, hot and nauseating up the back of his throat, to challenge this comfortable state.

Would it be so wrong to want something else?

Anakin stared at himself in the mirror, against the unfamiliar backdrop of a luxury ship on a journey he had dreaded departing on, only five hours from takeoff, and saw a stranger looking back at him. He was standing naked in the cold air, having ditched his clothes the moment he had snapped the door to his room shut behind him, but it felt nice on his skin where the rest of the evening had seemed like he’d been suspended in hot water so that even breathing was a challenge. Obi-Wan’s eyes were blue, and should have been cold, yet Anakin could only recall heat on his skin wherever the Senator let his gaze travel.

Dinner had been, all things considered, a quiet ordeal. He had retreated the minute he was able, feeling as though he’d shaken off the Senator’s spell for the moment and itching to kick down his door and plunge himself back into that heated pool, but the moment of clarity he was experiencing was illuminating. Anakin licked his dry lips, and leaned forward over the sink with his arms braced on the countertop to look at himself more closely, at the sum of imperceptible changes that were staring back at him.

But what kind of power could a kiss truly have? Anakin looked at his mouth, still sweet, still warm, and thought about the Senator’s lips and his tongue and the way he used his teeth to tease him.

He lifted his hand and put his fingertips on his breastbone, then traced them up, skin to skin, to the base of his throat, and higher. Under his jaw he could feel stubble brushing rough against his fingertips, and he tipped his head to the side to study it. There were dark circles under his eyes like bruises pressed lovingly into painted marble. It felt to him like it had been ages since he had last been well rested, and yet his body was aching to move like there was new energy bubbling inside him begging to be wasted.

Anakin was no stranger to want. He had felt it before on many occasions — as a child, on the sandy dunes of Tatooine, living as a slave and picturing freedom; as a padawan, longing to fit in with only Qui-Gon Jinn in support of him; as a Knight, waiting to be promoted, chasing Padmé’s skirt, and anxious for his mother’s freedom — but even his most recent desires paled in comparison to this. He was — coveting. The obsession of it was only growing stronger.

The sin of it felt like a stain on his hands. He glanced at his knuckles in the mirror and expected to see red before he continued on his surveying journey.

The little kitchen had been supplied with several prepared meals for their convenience, and the Senator had insisted that they dine upon the fish.

 _Of course, it tastes best fresh,_ he said, passing Anakin the first of two plates and catching him briefly in his gaze as he lamented, _But we poor cosmonauts shall have to make do with frozen._

That the Senator had wrinkled his nose at having to flash cook his fillet meant nothing to Anakin. The fish was like nothing he had tasted before - if indeed it could taste better, he’d prefer not to know. It felt foreign to his mouth, where his cheeks were marked with swatches of scar tissue and his pallet accustomed to little other than ration bars and caf. Anakin rolled his tongue against the scars and wondered if Obi-Wan had felt many of them, and if he minded if he did.

Anakin dropped his hand from his face, dropped his gaze to the floor, and then closed his eyes. The countertop was cool under his hand where his body had been slowly heating up and he lifted his durasteel hand from the counter while reaching for the Force. His glove was still sitting on the coffee table, but he was committed now and didn’t care to retrieve it. Offloading his emotions was heavy work and the burden of them never quite left the slumped set of his shoulders as he set his cold metal hand against the base of his stomach, where his skin flinched away and then numbed into a cool impression of his fingertips and palm as it stole his heat. After a minute, while he exhaled, and shied away from conscious thought, his steel hand felt at least a little like it was imbued with natural warmth. His head now empty, and his brow still creased with worry, Anakin slid his hand down his abdomen and felt his happy trail tug and catch in the wake of his strange touch as he went along.

He bumped clumsily into the head of his cock, and the flash of cold against his skin pulled a grunt from low within his chest. He clutched the counter tighter in his other hand and turned to tuck his face into his bicep as he gripped himself and shuddered.

It hadn’t been his first kiss, not that it mattered much anymore. Anakin’s mouth flooded with spit and he swallowed, feeling like the first pass of his hand down his shaft was pulling him apart at every joint and stuffing the space with a thick and antsy heat. He rarely indulged himself, much less so with his durasteel hand. The effect of it was almost incapacitating as he squeezed, just a bit too tight, just a bit too cruel, seeing Obi-Wan in his mind’s eye smirking at him as he pushed him back into the couch and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The sound of his heart rate in the silent room nearly doubled.

Anakin bit his lip and drew blood, cracking his dry skin as he pulled his hand up, feeling the impersonal heat of it glide over himself smoothly, with no moisture to cause friction until he met the first dripping trail of precum drooling from the tip of his cock. Finally regretful he had not picked his glove up after retreating to his room, Anakin mumbled out a quiet and dark curse as he took the plunge and committed himself to cleaning his wiring for the rest of the evening, and slid his thumb through it and shivered while spreading the slick stain of it down to the base of his dick as he passed his hand down over himself once more.

Obi-Wan’s hands were smaller than his own. Anakin noticed that as they ate, alternating between attentive conversation and lurid daydreams. Eating, drinking, filling himself and remaining hungry. Acting normal. Fighting back against his every instinct, standing by him in the kitchen, drunk off his kiss as much as the wine and craving — coveting — the next chance to taste. The heat of him in his lap was hypnotic. The feeling of his hand in his hair, holding him still so he could get a proper taste and lick the wine out of his mouth so he could get at his spit — Anakin huffed out a breath against his arm and sped up his hand, remembering the open want in Obi-Wan’s eyes as he negotiated their kiss, upset his comfortable equation, and asked him without words if there was anything in the galaxy he might like more than putting holes in the sides of battle droid skulls.

Anakin wondered briefly what kind of suitors he had at home. Senator Kenobi was unmarried — of high standing, of royal blood, of senatorial dignity and perhaps accustomed to bacchanal parties and harems and concubines and sycophantic lovers caught up in his teasing personality like ships lost to sea. He kissed like he’d tasted his way through every nightclub on Coruscant. Anakin was certain he would fuck like that, too. He leaked more precum into his palm and twisted his hand over the head, and tried not to think about it.

They had taken their meal at a high top table tucked neatly into the corner of the cabin. Anakin had been pressed back against the wall as the Senator pinned him in from across the scarce space of their table and flirted with him relentlessly, teased him with his words, with his eyes, in the way he would lean back and look at his chest or else spend a full minute watching his mouth. The Senator had touched his foot against the inside of Anakin’s boot, slid it up his to his ankle, coaxed Anakin’s thighs open wider and stole his glass for a sip of the cool tea he had chosen by way of allowing him another chance for a taste of his spit, and only complimented his taste when Anakin purposefully drank from the same side of his glass without meeting his eyes.

Challenging him. Pressing at him. Looking for weak spots, where Anakin might bend for him, break for him. Anakin pulled his hand off his cock and spat into his durasteel palm and looked down at himself this time, feeling his shame creep up his back to witness the act too, as he fisted his cock and thought about the Senator’s cool blue eyes and how he thought he noticed flecks of gold in them, too, but was never granted time enough to truly see as he chased his gaze all evening like a starved man haunted by illusions of a feast. He was hungry. Craving. Coveting.

 _Will you join me for tea, in an hour, General?_ Obi-Wan asked, when they had finished their meal and walked the few steps to the sofas where they lingered together. Anakin loomed over him, and even his shadow was not dark enough to subdue the golden light that seemed to radiate off the Senator as he reached out, between them, to smooth part of Anakin’s rumpled tunic over the side of his rib cage. His nerves frayed and his mind overwhelmed, Anakin could only nod, wordless, fancying he could feel the heat of the Senator’s palm through his clothes. He hadn’t once let their hands touch at dinner. The back of his neck was starting to grow sticky with sweat.

He would, of course, without question. He had half a mind to wait for him on the sofa like a loyal dog, but the custodial droid unit powered itself up and suddenly they were no longer alone and the Senator slipped away, out from under him, once more that specter of heat he could never quite hold.

 _I shall see you then, Anakin_ , he said confidentially by his door, with a knowing smile as he met his eyes, _I think I’ll change — it seems this heat will linger a while longer with us, no?_

He had left then, and Anakin, free from under his gaze, could only back away into his own room and snap his door shut and claw at his robes as his overheated body tried to reckon with his mixed up, frayed and frazzled emotions. Grimly, as he watched his hand glide up and down his cock and drive him closer to orgasm, he noted there was only ever one thing that was going to satisfy him.

Anakin lifted his hand from himself once more and spat again into his palm, staring at the web of spit and precum that connected his fingers and dripped off his dick and mussed his thighs, his balls, and the hair that dusted his body in that space. He wondered if Obi-Wan would find him handsome. He wondered how he would compare to those the Senator had slept with in the past. He wondered what it would be like to see the Senator kneeling there, with his face pressed up against him, wet with his efforts and slick with his enthusiasm and looking up at him with that smirk and that knowing expression and those teasing eyes as he turned his head and dragged his tongue against him, still sweet from his tea, still warm from the wine, his red tongue, his glossy lips, his full beard wet and soft and Anakin finally came into his empty palm and nearly bit through his own tongue trying to hold back a certain name.

His fingers finally seized up with the thick ropes of cum dripping languidly between his careful joints and sticking, and Anakin breathed out hard, swaying in the now hot, thick air, as his hair stuck to the back of his neck where he had begun sweating again.

Yes, coveting was new for Anakin. He jerked the ‘fresher on and turned it up to high and blasted himself with scalding water until his skin could hardly stand it, and then stood dripping over the drain as he tended to his hand in an absent sort of meditation as his body heat and steam from the shower slowly stifled the room. When he was done he noted he was ten minutes late to meet the Senator, and stalked out of the bathroom grateful for the condensation on the mirror to prevent him from looking at what he felt certain was now a face he would recognize after passing through this ritual and sinking his teeth into something taboo, but the itch remained, the hunger was still present, he had washed away the taste of the Senator from his tongue and now he needed seconds.

Outside, in the common room, Obi-Wan heard Anakin shower and fought the urge to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, I can’t decide if I want Anakin to be a virgin or not, or ever slept with a man or not, or any of those other (realistically meaningless but fictionally hot) options so I would be up for suggestion. I’m thinking maybe he’d fucked Padmé before, or been to a brothel encouraged by the Clones, but I want to be sure I can maximize Obi-Wan’s teasing potential LOL.... anyway pls lmk what you think I’m v interested


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